Harder than the Wind
by NorthernLight16
Summary: As he pulled up the zipper on his jacket and shoved his hands as deep as he could in his pockets, he hoped she would come after him. Like it happened in the movies. No coat, just the urgency of love wrapped around her.


A/N: Characters not mine. Written for the challenge "Maybe I'm not what you had in mind". Written by LSMunch.

* * *

"Maybe I'm not what you had in mind." Quietly spoken, it hit her harder than if he had shouted it. Eyes downcast, he seemed disappointed, as if his one dream had been about to come true, only to be shot down in its final stages.

"John." Her voice was being slowly strangled by guilt and realization. She floundered, knowing that he wouldn't be there to help her up because he was the one who had been hurt. By her.

He stood up, walked to the front door, grabbed his old jacket and left, the door slamming to his heart.

At least, he would have liked it if the door to his heart had been closed.

However, it wasn't because he still heard the pain of her inability to speak ringing in his ears. Church bells at a funeral.

As he pulled up the zipper on his jacket and shoved his hands as deep as he could in his pockets, he hoped she would come after him. Like it happened in the movies. No coat, just the urgency of love wrapped around her.

But he realized that now he much rather be alone. Let her stay in his warm apartment. He didn't mind. He still loved her, even if she was having second thoughts, or never loved him at all.

_Never loved him at all._

The words nipped at him, biting harder than the wind.

_Never loved him at all._

He walked faster.

* * *

When she heard his key turn in the lock, she stiffened. He had been gone for hours, and she hadn't had the courage to follow him nor to leave. So she had remained, tears falling and wetting his stupid couch, as she raged at herself. She listened as he closed the door and then she could see him. He looked at her, jacket still on. There was snow in his hair and she desperately wanted to run her fingers through it and feel the chill of the air.

Frozen in place, he held his keys in both hands. "What are you doing here?"

He had told himself he didn't mind, but it had been hours. He didn't really expect her to sit in his apartment for that long. He doubted he would have done the same.

"I"- she started, but he interrupted her, suddenly afraid of what she would say.

"Forget I asked." He turned then and she felt a shiver of fear run its way across her, but he only bent down and took off his wet shoes and hung up his jacket on the rack. As he walked towards her, she couldn't help but imagine how cold the fabric of his pants must be and how warm his sweater must be, having been protected by his jacket.

He continued past her and went to the kitchen. "I see you cleaned up."

She looked around as she rose to follow him. "Yeah."

He nodded.

She walked in on him taking out some old take-out containers from the refrigerator. She stood helplessly in the doorway.

"John"-

He cut her off again, "You want something?"

She looked at his back, imaging the slight rough feel of his sweater against her cheek. "No, I'm not hungry."

He emptied a container onto a plate.

"Was it snowing long?"

The contents of another container were dumped on his plate. "Half an hour, maybe longer."

"Is it sticking?"

He walked to the microwave and put his plate in, closing the door and starting it. He walked back to where the containers lay on the counter. "A bit."

"Oh."

He threw the containers away. Went back to the fridge and pulled out a beer. "Want one?" He didn't look at her when he asked.

"No, thanks."

He set it down on the table along with a glass. The microwave beeped, he went over and took out a steaming plate of food. He sat down.

She remained standing.

After a few bites, he chanced a look at her. She was quiet, a sad air about her. Still chewing, their eyes locked and he fought to break it.

But he could see the apology written in her eyes and it held him.

He swallowed. She looked away. He was free.

He looked down at the table and picked up his glass, taking a swig of beer. He fiddled with his fork for a minute, unsure of himself.

"I'm sorry, John." There. She had said it.

His gaze remained fixed on the table.

"John"- It was wavering and he steadied it.

"I know." Silence hung between them. "Have a seat."

She did, slowly.

"I love you," he started, then stopped. He let his eyes rise and they fell on her bowed head. "Liv." Quiet, soft.

Slowly, her eyes met his.

"If you don't"-

Now it was her turn to cut him off. "I do. It was stupid to say what I did. I'm sorry." Rushed. Fell all over the table and froze him solid.

"I'm sorry." Whispered. Melted him.

There was a burning sensation in his chest and he rose quickly and went to her. She rose as well and they met, hanging on to each other.

"You're exactly what I had in mind," she whispered as his sweater engulfed her face and made it itchy with its warmth.


End file.
